ce, then," retorted Mrs.
Rachel.

"I've heard you criticise ministers pretty sharply yourself," teased
Anne.

"Yes, but I do it reverently," protested Mrs. Lynde. "You never heard
me NICKNAME a minister."

Anne smothered a smile.

"Well, there are Diana and Fred and little Fred and Small Anne
Cordelia--and Jane Andrews. I wish I could have Miss Stacey and Aunt
Jamesina and Priscilla and Stella. But Stella is in Vancouver, and
Pris is in Japan, and Miss Stacey is married in California, and Aunt
Jamesina has gone to India to explore her daughter's mission field, in
spite of her horror of snakes. It's really dreadful--the way people
get scattered over the globe."

"The Lord never intended it, that's what," said Mrs. Rachel
authoritatively. "In my young days people grew up and married and
settled down where they were born, or pretty near it. Thank goodness
you've stuck to the Island, Anne. I was afraid Gilbert would insist on
rushing off to the ends of the earth when he got through college, and
dragging you with him."

"If everybody stayed where he was born places would soon be filled up,
Mrs. Lynde."

"Oh, I'm not going to argue with you, Anne. _I_ am not a B.A. What
time of the day is the ceremony to be?"

"We have decided on noon--high noon, as the society reporters say.
That will give us time to catch the evening train to Glen St. Mary."

"And you'll be married in the parlor?"

"No--not unless it rains. We mean to be married in the orchard--with
the blue sky over us and the sunshine around us. Do you know when and
where I'd like to be married, if I could? It would be at dawn--a June
dawn, with a glorious sunrise, and roses blooming in the gardens; and I
would slip down and meet Gilbert and we would go together to the heart
of the beech woods,--and there, under the green arches that would be
like a splendid cathedral, we would be married."

Marilla sniffed scornfully and Mrs. Lynde looked shocked.

"But that would be terrible queer, Anne. Why, it wouldn't really seem
legal. And what would Mrs. Harmon Andrews say?"

"Ah, there's the rub," sighed Anne. "There are so many things in life
we cannot do because of the fear of what Mrs. Harmon Andrews would say.
''Tis true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true.' What delightful
things we might do were it not for Mrs. Harmon Andrews!"

"By times, Anne, I don't feel quite sure that I understand you
altogether," complained Mrs. Lynde.

"Anne was